Breaking and Entering
by IHateRaisins
Summary: Liz gets an unexpected surprise when Red breaks into her house and provides a romantic dinner by candlelight and some entertainment while Tom is away...also making Liz question her feelings on not only Red but the man she thinks she has married. Red/Liz. Cheating/AU season 1.
1. An Intruder

_Hey there. I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. I'm just a huge fan._

_This story is set around the 7th episode, where Liz was upset with Red for implicating Tom, so it's fairly early times. I'm not sure if I should continue or if it's just a ball of silliness, but let me know if its something I should expand on. I hope it isn't really bad and I hope you enjoy it despite this._

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_**Breaking and Entering**_

Liz hadn't realized anything was amiss in her home with Tom, just until she had arrived home and was standing over the bathroom sink, brushing her teeth. She had changed into a long band T-shirt that fell just below her knees and felt ready to head to bed. Today had exhausted on her; Another name was eliminated on the Blacklist and it had been a day full of constant danger.

Ever since Raymond Reddington had entered into her life, that was what it mostly consisted of now. Sketchy leads and danger around every foreseeable corner.

She felt physically drained, but that was mostly to do with Reddington. Ever since she had told him to 'Go to hell' after setting up her husband, she had been determined to ignore him. It wasn't easy when they were supposed to be partners working together, and he seemed eager to try to get her into forgiving him.

She heard music come to life downstairs, floating around the living room. _Was Tom home playing one of his CD's? _Then she heard somebody opening drawers and rummaging around, setting out China plates and cutlery. She rinsed her toothbrush under the faucet and listened intently. Tom was only the reasonable explanation she could find into what was happening downstairs. _Maybe he came home and wanted to surprise her with dinner?_ If so, she was very, very surprised.

She turned and peered at the illuminated red numbers on the alarm clock on the nightstand near the bed. It was ten-thirty. Tom wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow evening; He had a teacher's conference, or so he told her. _So why the hell was he home now? Unless he left... early?_

"Tom?" she called out. "Are you home? Is that you downstairs, babe?"

When she received no answer, she went over to the closet, found the baseball bat Tom and her kept in there in case, and tightened her hands over the aluminum handle. It was the very same baseball bat she used in high school, brought by her father Sam, when she developed an interest in sports. She hadn't used the thing in a very long time, so she practiced her swing before slipping out quietly into the hallway.

She rounded the stairs on tiptoes, listening carefully. The CD was a compilation of 80's tracks and she recognized Wang Chung's _Dance Hall Days_ blaring from out of their stereo system.

She could faintly hear someone moving about in the kitchen and then she heard the clicking of a lighter going off. _Was someone planning to set her house on fire?_ After Ranko Zamani, one of Red's targets at the starting point of their "partnership" had waltzed into her home and badly hurt Tom to the point of him being on life support, she didn't want to take any chances. Loosening her fingers over the handle of the bat, she began treading down the stairs as softly as humanly possible. Then just as she reached the threshold into the kitchen, she spread her legs a width apart, crouching slightly, ready to aim the bat at the intruder in her house and take a large and _hopefully_ painful swing.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and she began trembling. If it was in fact Tom, usually he would have made himself known the instance he had arrived in. But the fact he hadn't answered her, it told her it wasn't Tom but another intruder altogether.

Someone had invaded into her home. And now, they were probably doing odd things to her dining room table.

Before she lost her courage completely, she whirled into the kitchen, feeling momentarily paralyzed from the head down. Someone had prepared the table for dinner, setting two empty China plates beside each other, and hell, there were even lit candles going, emitting soft flickers of light around the room from where they sat in the middle of her dining room table.

_What the hell was going on? _

Then she found a man standing by the open door of her refrigerator, his back turned to her as he searched through the contents of her fridge. She didn't recognize the man's silhouette at all; With just the candles presenting the only source of light, the entire room felt too dark and unfamiliar to her.

Choosing to startle her household intruder, she made a loud noise, stomping her bare feet against the hardwood floor.

"What are you doing in my house?" she demanded, trying to sound as menacing as possible. "Why are you playing my CD's? Why are you going through my refrigerator at this hour? Who the hell are you?"

The man turned to face her and she found herself staring directly into the eyes of a very alarmed Red. Adrenaline raced throughout her body at the sudden recognition of him, the bat slipped clumsily from her fingers knocking to the floor by her toes loudly, and he regarded her with some amusement as he stood to his full height.

_Red. In her house. Fixing her dinner. How? What? When?_

"Good evening, Lizzie," he said cheerfully, despite her state of distress. His eyes roamed down the sloppy long shirt she was wearing, and Liz suddenly felt embarrassed and under-dressed in front of him. "You were just about to get into bed, I see. Shame, because I would hate to waste all this food I brought." He gestured towards some takeout containers near the sink. A bottle of red wine was sitting by them unopened. "I thought now would be an excellent time for that therapy session we are so needing, wouldn't you agree?"

_Ah, so this was what it was all about..._

Liz finally understood his reasons into breaking into her home. Her shortness with him at work and her refusal to sometimes even acknowledge him properly in the same room was starting to truly get under his skin. Still, it was no excuse for the man to break and enter into her home and frighten her half to death in the process.

"What are you doing here, Red? What made you think you could break into my house?" Slowly it occurred to Liz that she was shouting, so she deliberately lowered her voice, trying to speak softly and reasonably. "I could have very nearly had you down on the floor after I clobbered you half to death with my baseball bat. What _the hell_ do you think you are doing in my home?"

Without answering her and putting her mind at ease, he began opening cupboards one by one. When he found two glasses for the wine, he grabbed the wine bottle and started walking over to the kitchen table. She stared at him, watching his every move, growing more incensed as every second passed on by.

She took three swift strides, slipped in front of him, and slammed her hand down on the table so hard it shook.

"Well, what's your excuse?" she demanded. When he blatantly ignored her by placing the two glasses on the table and pried the bottle open with a corkscrew, she slammed her fist down on the table again. He regarded the noises she was making with little more than amusement and silent mirth. "Damn you, you can't just feel free to enter into my house where I live with Tom! Boundaries; There _has to be_ boundaries. Clearly you don't understand the concept!"

He filled the two glasses generously with red wine and held one out to her ceremoniously. "Shiraz, Lizzie?"

Liz shut her eyes, naïvely praying that if she stood there with them closed long enough, maybe he would vanish out of thin air. Unfortunately for her, when she slowly reopened them, he was standing exactly where he was. "Why are you here in my home? How did you even get in here? I locked all the doors."

"I'm a criminal, Lizzie. Entering into someone's home without a key isn't difficult for me to do."

"Then I'm sure you'll find it just as easy showing yourself out," she said bitterly. She tried to be sensible, despite the situation he had thrust her into. "I want you to leave, Red. I want you to leave my house this instance. Coming in here like this, invading my privacy... it is _not_ acceptable."

"We seem to be having a little problem, Lizzie." When he placed her ignored glass of wine on the table, he stepped closer towards her, hands held out at his sides in a placating gesture. She didn't see any threat, but still she stepped back out of his range. "You won't talk to me, you're ignoring me, and when you don't talk to me it takes away all the fun. If we are going to resume like this, then I have no interest anymore. And if I have no interest, its goodbye and good luck to you and all of your bumbling team of FBI Agents."

"Right. So it bothers you that much that you chose to actively break into my home during the night? I mean, what are you doing, Red?" She shook her head helplessly, waving her hands around the table, at the plates, the candles, the intimate setting, the music. "What are you trying to accomplish? You wanna force me into sitting with you and sharing half-assed, pleasant conversations over dinner and glasses of red wine? Is that it?"

The entire situation was ridiculous, unreal of him.

"Do you _really think_ all of this will excuse what you've done?"

He met her eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching, "And what exactly have I done, Lizzie? Do tell me."

She could tell by his soft, breathless tone of voice that he actually believed he hadn't done a single thing wrong. It was ridiculous.

"Well, for a start, you're trying to drive a wedge through my marriage to my husband. You _set_ him up. You placed _forged_ passports into our home..." She sucked in a deep breath as the words continued spilling out mercilessly in a rush. "You _lied_ and made up that he had some connection with this Gina woman, which was completely false and fabricated. Can you really blame me for wanting nothing to do with you at work? Can you really not see or understand where I'm coming from?"

Red held up his hands above his head. A universal sign of surrender, or peace. A declaration of no weapons.

"I didn't come here tonight to argue with you, Lizzie," he said, his voice soft and deep. "I came here because I want all of this resolved between us. I have no interest to continue on like we are and, as I just stated, if I have no interest, I walk. Simple as that."

"It _isn't_ that simple. You can't just walk whenever you feel like it. You have a deal with the government. Plus, you have a tracking device stuck in your neck. If you walk, you're not going to get very far, are you?"

"You don't think I can vanish and cease to exist, Lizzie? I can disappear at the drop of a hat. In fact, I offer that particular package to some of my clients. It_ is_ that simple."

He was making a valid point, and Liz could see that.

She took a deep breath and folded her arms over her chest. "So what you're basically saying here is that if we carry on the way that we are... you'll walk?" she asked sceptically. "If I don't talk to you, you'll walk and disappear, just like that? It's farewell and no more finding criminals?"

"It is exactly just like that, Lizzie." His tone was a little condescending. He studied her with his eyes, his head cocked slightly to the side, and Liz felt immediately vulnerable and exposed in just the shirt she was wearing. "The ball is in your court. You make the decision. The choice is all yours."

It was a big choice settling on her shoulders, she knew that. With him as her partner and his insider knowledge into the criminal underworld, Liz finally had a chance of making the world a better, safer place. For children, for their future.

"What would you prefer? The chow mein or the chicken tikka? Or perhaps a bit of both?"

She stared at him, lost. How he could change subject so fast, from something serious to trivial, was a mystery to her. "What?"

Reaching down, he pulled out the chair for her and moved back towards the kitchen to gather the containers of food. Heaving out a long sigh, she stretched the shirt down over her knees self-consciously before she sat, scrutinizing him as he returned to the table, dishing out equal portions of the hot, steaming food on the bare plates for the pair of them. The entire situation she found herself in was still unbelievable. She wasn't so sure it was real. Partly she hoped it wasn't.

She felt as if she had been thrown into the lion's den, vulnerable and defenseless. Red was the ruthless, unpredictable predator whose motives she couldn't read ahead of time and the fact that she was feeling that way in her own home, the house that she had lived in for two years with her husband, wasn't helping to ease her mind any.

It was surreal; Raymond Reddington, the Concierge of Crime, was in her house, doing something so normal and mundane as scooping food out onto plates.

Although she knew he was a man like most and that he had to eat, it still proved a lot for her to take in. But watching him now, preparing the dinner he had brought for them with a silent thoughtful expression on his face, he was no longer just a criminal in her eyes. He was a man with an appetite like all the rest. The look did not suit him, though. Without his coat or hat on, just wearing what he was; Black slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up around his forearms, he was just exactly like the average day-to-day man. Like a man providing food for a loved one. So domestic to the scale of hilarity.

Of course all the times and hours she had spent working with him had shown her otherwise. He could be ruthless, manipulative, and arrogant. All the things that constantly annoyed her.

"How do you like that Shiraz, Lizzie?" His quiet voice tore her out of her contemplative thoughts about the man standing before her, and she felt her cheeks redden.

She slipped her fingers over the stem of the glass and took a sip, judging the taste of the wine. She was no experienced wine drinker, but it was refreshing. Not too sour, not too sweet. Just somewhere in the middle, the perfect balance.

"It's very nice," she said. "But why are you here? Just to wine and dine me? Impress me?"

"It is exactly as I said, Lizzie. I want us to resolve this issue between us. I want us talking again and for you to stop sending hair-raising looks in my direction like a school girl with a grudge."

"Well, breaking into my home kind of defeats the purpose. It's not okay for you to do that. Not ever." She had to get it out there. Just had to, so he knew- in case he didn't already.

"Do you know what they say about men, Lizzie?" he asked, expertly changing the subject. Liz was used to it by now; She had learned it was his way of avoiding answering things. Deflection. Refusing to take accountability for his actions.

She decided to humor him. For the time being, anyway.

"No, what do they say?"

"They believe that the quickest way into a man's heart is through his stomach. Give him food and he'll love you like you are the finest thing that has ever walked on this earth."

He gave her a faint smile as he looked down at her.

"Yes, I have heard that."

He pushed one of the plates towards her, the China scraping against the table. The delicious smell of the food wafted up to her nostrils and enlivened her senses. "I think the same also could be said about women, wouldn't you?"

It was a remark in reference to her. She knew it. Did that mean he was trying to win her over with food? She had a faint idea that he was obsessed with her, but she never realized the full extent of it... until now.

Zamani's horrifying words instantly came back to her: _"My friend is always so obsessed with you. I'm not sure why."_

Breaking and entering into someone's house certainly were the signs of a deranged, mentally ill man, wasn't it? So the food smelt good, real good. It was hard not to just forget her manners, her outrage with him over his antics, and dig straight in. Her stomach vibrated silently with hunger.

"Well, we all have to eat," she retorted as nonchalantly as she could.

He sat down in the chair opposite her, reaching for his own glass of Shiraz. He held the rim of the glass to his lips for a second, before taking in a slow sip. His eyes were focused, burning into hers, radiating light from the candles he had lit. The rims of her ears tingled and she forced her eyes away, down on the food in front of her. Since she knew there was no way out of it, she surrendered; Picking up her fork and knife, beginning to eat.

She found her eyes continuously drifting into the hallway as she chewed and made herself swallow the food down. She heard the scraping of Red's knife against his own plate and knew he had begun his meal also. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying the flavors of the meal or Red's thoughtfulness, it was... Tom. She imagined, with some unease, the look that would come across Tom's face had he walked in through that front door and found her having a candlelit dinner with a middle-aged man splurging her with fine food and extravagant glasses of wine like a secret lover. It wouldn't have gone down so well.

"What are you thinking, Lizzie?" Red's voice interrupted her train of thought, bringing her back into the moment at hand.

She hesitated, unsure of whether to tell him the truth. Sometimes Red had the ability to read her like an open book, so lying would probably have only proved fruitless.

"I'm wondering what it would be like for Tom if he walked through the front door and saw us here like this."

"Your husband is long gone out-of-town, Lizzie. And besides we are only sharing an innocent meal together and some glasses of a very ridiculously expensive Shiraz. As you so correctly said, we all have to eat. And I, for one, always enjoy your company."

"Of course, you would enjoy it, wouldn't you?" She picked up her glass and took another sip confidently. "Being as lonely and secluded from most people in the world as you are... You have no real friends. You just have... business connections. Nothing personal. No one who wants to sit down and have dinner with you."

"Are you analyzing me now, Lizzie?" His tone was amused, and he paused for a moment, gathering a napkin to dab at the side of his mouth, "Are you using your profiler instincts?"

"You're used to having dinner alone. And now you're joyously over the moon that you've managed to drag me into having dinner with you to curb some of your loneliness."

"There is no gun pointed to your head, Lizzie," he muttered offhandedly, taking a sip of his wine. "But you are right, of course. I have been alone for far too long."

"So this never was about you wanting to resolve anything. You enjoy being around me, no matter that you have to physically impose yourself into my life in order to do it."

"I believe it is no secret how much I enjoy you, Lizzie. Have you ever been out of the country?"

"I haven't," she admitted. "Since when would I have the time to do that?"

"You should certainly make the time for it, Lizzie. You're missing out on so much of the world you haven't even yet dreamed of."

"Like what?"

"Oh, like everything. Like being in a boat, and feeling the wind in your hair. Looking out at the sea and seeing no landscape in sight, but just the water surrounding you gloriously. Sailing under the Sydney Harbor Bridge. Standing beneath the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Climbing the Great Wall of China. So many wonderful, _wonderful_ things, Lizzie."

"And I take it you have already?" It was obvious in the way he spoke of it all; With wistful longing and appreciation.

"I want to see and experience it all again, Lizzie. Just one last time. Let's face it; I'm not getting any younger. Time is slowly slipping through my fingertips like the sand in an hourglass. I want to see and feel it all again. The endless depths of the ocean as you're riding it on a boat. The fulfillment of succeeding in climbing the Great Wall. Watching ballet performances in the Sydney Opera House. But most of all, I long to see it all again with a woman. Have her laughter surrounding me. Someone who hasn't seen or experienced it yet for herself. I want so badly to see it all through her eyes. To have her with me everywhere I go. To sleep in a hotel room with her and have her legs and arms around me in the sheets. To not carry that undying sense of loneliness on my back like a devil on my shoulder."

His eyes were locked on hers intently throughout his words and Liz found herself flabbergasted that a man could speak with so much passion.

"And who is this woman you speak of?" she asked, her voice breathless.

"I think we both know who that woman is, Lizzie," he breathed in a soft, deep voice. His tone left no doubts in her that it was directed at her. "I think we both also already know that it would never happen. Not in ten years, not even in twenty. Never in this lifetime. So," he sat back in the chair with a resigned sigh, "Alas, we continue to dream until we die and its never fulfilled..." A muscle in his jaw twitched as he lifted his eyebrows at her.

She had no idea what to say. What was she supposed to say in response to something like that?

"All of this... are you... directing this at me?"

He laughed humorlessly and his eyes softened at her from where she sat. "Always so presumptuous, aren't you, Lizzie?"

"I'm married."

"Yes, well. We'll see how that ends up, won't we?"

Her appetite long gone now, Liz sat back in the chair. Red said not another word to her; He simply stared at her, as if lost in thought. There was a deep, silent melancholy inside of Red that she didn't know how to break through, no less pull him out of.

She cleared her throat, before saying gently, "I'm finished eating, if you are?"

He cleared his own throat and seemed to snap out of his thoughts. He got to his feet slowly. "Yes, I'll help you clean up, Lizzie."

In silence, she gathered the silverware and plates and walked over to the kitchen sink while he lingered behind her. She couldn't deny it had been a surprisingly enjoyable, if yet unnerving evening spent with him. They bumped and continuously brushed into each other at the small sink, and she could feel his eyes on her while she filled the sink and began washing up the dishes. It helped to pretend as if he wasn't in the room with her.

"I think it needs to be said that I appreciate everything that you have done, both for myself and for the Bureau," she said, handing him a cleanly washed plate to dry. "But that said, this can never happen again. You can't just come into my home whenever you please to have dinner with me. Tonight was enjoyable, if unexpected, but it can't happen again." When he didn't answer her, she turned to look at him, finding him standing closer to her than she knew. She eyed him seriously. "Do you understand what I'm saying? This can't happen again, Red. Let's try to keep this relationship professional and solely for work purposes."

Red's eyes warmly scrutinized all of her face. Then he nodded, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line. "I couldn't agree more, Lizzie."

"Good. So let's try to keep it that way from now on."

She turned back towards the sink, then felt her breath hitch as he leaned in against her. He slipped his arms gently around her waist and she dipped her head, pressing her lips together tightly to refrain from saying something she would later regret. She didn't know how to be anymore clearer on him. There was such a line of personal boundaries existing and touching was teetering precariously close to the edge of it. She felt him move in, until his lips were an inch or so from the shell of her ear.

"Do you know what I feel like doing right now, Lizzie?" he whispered in her ear, the words somehow sensual to her. Her stomach clenched.

"What, Red?"

"After an enjoyable meal and good company, I always feel like dancing."

One of his hands slid off her waist to wrap around one of hers tightly and he pulled her slowly away from the dishes in the sink, ignoring her half-hearted protests. Whether it was the Shiraz or the music she hadn't heard in so long, or just... Red's infectious mood in general, Liz had no idea, but she felt like dancing as well.

_This was going to be a long night... _

**_A/N: Is this something I should continue? Feel free to let me know :-)_**


	2. Should I Stay or Should I Go?

_**Hey guys,**_

_**I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. I hope you enjoy this second chapter and that I've gotten the characters down okay. Feel free to let me know your thoughts! :)**_

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_**Chapter Two**_

Against her better judgment, Liz obediently let Red slide an arm around her waist, while grasping her other hand in his.

"Before we do this, I'm going to have to finish all of my glass of wine first," she said, pulling her hand free. She grabbed her glass of red wine off the table and swallowed it down greedily in two impressive mouthfuls, feeling the alcohol immediately warm her insides and take the nervous edge off. He had picked a wonderful wine, probably one of his many expertise, and she licked her lips before setting it back down on the table and moving closer to where he was standing.

Everything still felt so much like a surreal dream, with Reddington being inside the house she owned with Tom. She still felt horribly underdressed in just her sloppy T-shirt in front of him, and she stretched the fabric to her knees before resuming their position of before and allowing him to take her hand again.

"Have you ever danced the Argentine Tango, Lizzie?"

"I haven't, no."

"Oh, you should. It's one of my favorites. Shall we try?"

"I don't see why not," she allowed, trying not to enjoy herself too much. She didn't want to encourage Red or make him feel it was perfectly acceptable for him to break into her house again on any other occasion while Tom wasn't at home. Still, she couldn't deny she found his company rather enjoyable- something that was the least of what she was expecting to feel. "Show me how its done."

"This will require a close embrace, Lizzie, so you will have to come in nearer so we're touching."

Liz wasn't entirely comfortable with that, but she silently obeyed in drawing closer so that their bodies were only inches away, placing one hand on his shoulder while Red slipped his arm around her back while he tightened his hand over hers. The Flame by Cheap Trick was playing around the room but she wasn't exactly listening to the melancholy lyrics. She kept her eyes down, trying and focused on accessing what he was doing with his feet and attempting to copy them with her own. A couple of times she accidentally made missteps and ended up stomping on the tip of his polished loafers with her bare feet, but if Reddington noticed her stumbles, he didn't comment. The fact he didn't made it easier for her to follow and after getting the general gist of the way his feet moved and the way his body was aligned with hers, she grew confident enough to start moving in earnest.

She didn't trust herself to look at Reddington's face since they were so near and held their bodies rather intimately close to each other, so instead she peered behind his shoulder, closing her eyes and focusing on nothing but the music floating around them instead. It was nice, being held by Red and dancing with him. She could feel the strength of his arm as it was wrapped around her, holding her near, and she wasn't sure whether it was due to the wine she had just gluttonously consumed, but she felt scorching hot.

She couldn't remember the last time her and Tom had danced, but she was willing to bet, if they had, Tom would not be as graceful of a mover as Reddington was. Red really was an experienced dancer; He would definitely put her husband to shame.

Red's voice tore her out of her moment, his words soft and deep over the music. "Don't you like dancing, Lizzie?"

She reopened her eyes unwillingly and focused on him. She found he was already watching her, his eyes taking in all of her face warmly. His eyes did a constant dance between her lips and her eyes, as if he was unsure where to look and she recognized the adoration shining in his eyes for her, something she hardly knew how to deal with or make sense of. _Why had he come into the house?_

She cleared her throat gently and said, "It isn't a matter of not liking it, Red. I just haven't done it in an extremely long time." Since he no doubt wanted to know where her mind was taking her, she added, "The last time I did dance was when Tom and I shared our first dance together at our wedding. I was so nervous that I kept rehearsing for hours straight, but... when the time finally came for us, in front of all these people, it wasn't as bad as I initially thought it would be." She shook her hair out of her eyes and smiled slightly. "I'm all out of practice. I'm probably rusty with the moves."

"Allow me to refresh your memory then," Red said confidently, guiding her along with quicker steps that both her mind and body had difficulty catching up with.

She grimaced as her knee connected with his trouser-clad thigh by accident, but setting her chin and giving herself a little shake mentally, she tried with effort to catch up with him, mirroring his movements with vigor. Now they were struggling; Reddington obviously wanted to move left, but Liz was straining to go in the opposite direction.

"It seems we are facing a new dilemma here, Lizzie. It seems we're both naturally leaders when it comes to dancing, but only one can guide the other. One has to be the follower, and I prefer to be the former of the two. It is traditional for the male to be the leader, after all."

"Not a chance in hell, Reddington." Despite herself, Liz found herself laughing. Even she was surprised by the unexpected and carefree sound erupting from her throat when it did. She was enjoying the evening more than she thought possible. "Even at our wedding when Tom and I danced for the first time, I lead and he followed. The tradition was broken there."

She let her eyes meet his for a brief moment and watched the way he worked his jaw, as if he was preparing himself to say something. But then he seemed to give up and simply smiled at her tight-lipped instead. Liz was struck by how taller Reddington seemed when she wasn't wearing any shoes. He was an inch or so taller than her tonight and it felt strange. In a way that stunned her, his arm slackened from around her back and in the next second he was lifting his hand up to brush her hair carefully back behind her earlobe with his fingers, exposing more of her face and neck. Liz felt her mouth go dry, for reasons beyond her, and she had to avoid his gaze over the gesture as she swallowed thickly.

It came to her again, the unpleasant feeling that everything about this was wrong.

She was a married woman, Reddington had broken and entered into her home, and if he had been any other criminal- a burglar for instance- and not one she was familiar with and had a working relationship with, she sure as hell wouldn't have been welcoming the burglar in with open arms and sharing a dance with them now.

Her mind conjured up terrible images again, without her control, of Tom arriving home and walking through that hallway, staring in and catching her out dancing with another man. She could easily envision the look on Tom's face; She could easily feel his own betrayal as if it were her own, and instinctively she leaned back on the arches of her feet to create some distance between Red's body and hers.

She figured, somehow, that it would lessen the blow for Tom had he unexpectedly walked in on them.

Throughout her frantic thoughts, she closed her eyes protectively as Red used his thumb to move the strands of her fringe out of her eyes with care. He had never touched her like that before, not that she remembered anyway. There were times during undercover assignments where he had touched her in a brief and fleeting way, like when they were undercover with Wujing. But there had been nothing intimate or personal about those touches. They had just been for the sake of pretense and keeping up cover.

Liz had spent many hours questioning why Reddington had come into her life and had set all these events into motion.

She had often questioned his motives, and had even wondered for a while there if he was her biological father. His actions had given her no indication otherwise about what she was to him; And he did have the tendency to act rather parental towards her. But as her eyes took in the flickering candles he had lit around her dining room table and their empty plates still drying on the kitchen sink and that bottle of extravagant red wine, combined with the romantic music from one of her and Tom's compilation CD's, the setting looked like something a secret lover would do, rather than something a secret father would do for his daughter.

She had no idea why he felt it necessary to break his way into her home. He had told her he wanted matters resolved between them, yes.

But couldn't that all have been solved with a mere phone call or meaningful conversation at work? What was he trying to accomplish in doing all this for her? She might have been mistaken, but _all_ of_ this_\- the music, the candlelight, the takeout, _everything_\- seemed romantic. Was he trying to seduce her or something? She shook her head slightly at her own question. No, surely not. Surely she was being ludicrous.

As a new pathway of rapid thinking took over her mind, assaulting her head with a heavy feeling, Red's voice yet again brought her back down to earth. His voice was an octave lower and filled with humor, "Usually one looks at their dancing partner, Lizzie. And would it kill you to enjoy yourself for once?"

She felt those familiar defenses come up again, settling inside of her protectively like a well-worn glove."Well, in my defense, you broke into my house. I hope that isn't something you do often?"

"Of course not," he laughed, and Liz felt herself ridiculously redden. She found his laughter too attractive, too contagious. Definitely must be due to the wine he had brought around. "What kind of man do you take me for, Lizzie?"

"Clearly one that lacks any sense of personal boundaries," she retorted under her breath sarcastically. "In what world would it be alright for you to break into someone's house and scare them half to death in the process?"

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at her closely and smiled in a way that unnerved her. "I may be off-target, but it appears to me as if you are enjoying yourself and are hardly angry by my violation into your home at this hour of the night."

He was right and Liz knew it, damn him. She didn't so much as mind as she first had when she discovered it was him who was messing around in her kitchen. Still, it was inappropriate. He was lucky she never called the police, no less that she had whacked him a few times with her baseball bat in defense of both herself and her property.

"You might be right," she agreed grudgingly. "I may be warming up to you on some ridiculous level, but you won't be doing it again."

"Frankly, I'm not certain who is enjoying this more. Me? Or you, Lizzie?"

His words were irritating and spot-on to the point where Liz felt tempted to smash her head against a brick wall, but Liz presumed that was exactly his intentions. Having worked with Reddington for a decent amount of time now, she knew he enjoyed riling her up, perhaps even more than he enjoyed keeping things from her.

"Judging by the look on your face, I'm assuming it is you, Lizzie," he continued with an arrogance in his voice. "You have a notorious criminal in your home, and now, you are dancing with him and having a gas. What would your dear husband Tom think if he came to know of that?"

"I think you love hearing the sound of your voice too much," she replied, with enough sass she could inflict in her own voice. "But really? What's the reason for all of this?"

She jutted her chin over into the general direction of the many candles lit on the table, providing a dimly lit atmosphere around them that seemed rather sensual to her.

"You said you wanted everything resolved between us, and for us to be partners on cases again. But that doesn't explain all of this effort you've gone through? Breaking into my home? Buying takeout and lighting candles? All the extravagant wine?" She tried to work out his expression with critical eyes, only his face was maddeningly unreadable. "This isn't something a person normally does unless there's a good reason. You've really gone way out of the park with all of this, and for- what? What are you trying to accomplish with all of this?"

He didn't answer, but she saw the way the muscles in his throat twitched as he swallowed audibly. Reddington was seamless with keeping his expression under control and neutral, she knew, so she took it as a sign. A small one at that. Her eyes widened as it gradually dawned on her- the meaning of all of this and how he somehow knew it was the perfect moment to bombard his way into her house. He must have somehow known that Tom was away to use it to his own advantage.

"You somehow knew that Tom would be out at one of his conference meetings," she said in unconcealed accusation, her voice barely audible. "At first I assumed you were here because you were lonely and because you lack any meaningful friendships in your life. But that isn't it, is it? It's because you have come to realize something, isn't it?"

"And what is it that I have come to realize, Lizzie?" Red's voice sounded deep, as if it was coming deep inside of him. "Do tell me that."

"What you said was right that day in your car," she continued, in no more than a whisper over the music. She felt as if she was on a roll, so why stop? "In that you only have me. I'm all you have left, and yet, you both like and hate that about yourself, to have to acknowledge it. You had nowhere else to go, no one else to go to. You knew I would be alone tonight with Tom not around. You saw your chance and you took it..."

"I think we have both already established by now that all that you are saying is the truth, Lizzie. There _is_ no one else. But in all honesty, this isn't why I'm here. I came here because we had issues that needed to be solved with some therapy. I assumed what better way to have it talked out than over a candlelit dinner together and some music that brings back that certain swing of nostalgia?"

"Well, we've talked it out a good deal, haven't we?" she asked him bitterly. "You gave me no choice by imposing yourself on me at this ridiculous hour of the night, showing me that you truly have no concept of personal boundaries. This might be all about 'talking it out' to you, but you've really gone overboard with the music and the candles and the wine, haven't you?" Her voice trembled and shook with anger as she disconnected herself from him, stepping back.

"Ah. So now you're upset with me again?" He asked her, in an admirably composed tone. "I was hoping all this effort I had gone to tonight would have prevented that, Lizzie."

"Here we go again," she grumbled under her breath. "Can you not understand why I am upset, _really_? First of all, you _spread lies_ about my husband causing me to question him. Then now, here you are, invading my personal space and breaking into my home, with all these candles and delicious takeout and dancing and wine. Are you that blind? Or is this another trick to you? You want to wine and dine and romance me in the goal that I'll forgive you and believe you about Tom and then everything will be all flowers and rainbows and we'll be working partners again?"

"Of course, Lizzie. It's always so easy to blame me, isn't it? You would rather blame me than face the truth that your husband is not who you think he is, no less what you want to believe he is. He has you wrapped around his finger that good, doesn't he, Lizzie?"

Liz wanted to scream and she wanted to cry, and she wanted to smash things.

"You have no idea what you're saying," she ground out through her teeth, feeling heat hit her directly across her forehead. "You don't know Tom. I do. He is _just_ a fourth grade teacher, nothing more, nothing less. Is that really why you did all of this?" She swung her arms around, indicating the table and the setting. "How_ dare_ you come into my house and start this with me in my own home! Is that why you're here? Was this part of your grand scheme all along? To break into my house, butter me up, and then attempt to brainwash me?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head at her incriminations. "Oh, hardly, Lizzie." She caught him roll his eyes and her anger intensified. "But if that is what you want to believe as to the very reason that I came here tonight, then by all means... believe what you will."

"If you want this to work between us, this _partnership_"- She made a gesture with her hand, pointing at Red, then at herself- "then you have to stop with making all these cryptic comments about my husband. I know him, I've spent two years with him as his wife. And as for what you've done tonight, it can't happen again. You crossed a major line coming into my house without permission. So I've enjoyed myself, having dinner and wine and a dance with you, but this can never happen again, no matter how... lonely you are. It has to _stop _this instance!"

She forced herself to meet his gaze, wanting to be sure the message was getting across to him. He approached her, standing closer, smiling at her in a way she assumed was meant to be placating to her but it only pissed her off even more. Her hands twitched at her sides and she felt dangerously tempted at smacking that smile off his face for good.

"What if I told you that I never came here tonight for what I said I did, Lizzie? I certainly never came here tonight to talk about your husband, or cases. What if the sole reason I came here tonight was_ you_?"

She blinked at him slowly, her head throbbing. "I'm not sure I'm completely following where you're going with this?"

"To answer your question of before, yes, I knew Tom was not here tonight. And was that the sole reason I decided to come here? Well, yes, it somewhat was. I knew you were alone, and yes, I did see an opportunity and I did choose to take it."

"And why would you do that?" she asked, purposefully making her voice as quietly spoken as his was. "Why go through all of this effort?"

She tried to read his face carefully, but it was like a puzzle, one hard to figure out correctly. He moved closer, enough that he was standing directly in front of her, hands deep in his trouser pockets, and he leaned down slightly. "Do you think I've crossed a line in coming here tonight?"

"Yes," she answered. "How much clearer do I need to be on that? Breaking into the house was not okay."

"So say the word, and I'll go, Lizzie."

She wanted to say it, yet for some reason, she found she couldn't. The words wouldn't form in her throat.

"Tell me to leave, tell me how much of a bad boy I've been and that you want me to get out of your house," he goaded, "and I'm gone. The decision is entirely yours. You make the rules here, sweetheart."

Liz worked to find her voice with difficulty, but then found Red leaving was surprisingly the last thing she wanted right now. Besides, he had already gotten into her house, hadn't he? He was already there. What point was there telling him he had to leave now?

Red obviously sensed her hesitation because he nodded perceptively. "You don't want me to go, Lizzie. You want me to stay." His voice sounded almost strange to her ears, it took an edge that illustrated to her that he was relieved on some level. "I certainly don't want to go and I do want to stay."

Since her voice was not cooperating with her, she managed a mere nod, her eyes alternating between his mouth and his eyes helplessly. She didn't know what to think or what to do, when he brought a hand up and rested his fingers under her chin. As he guided her chin up gently, the next thing she felt was Red moving in closer once and for all and his lips pressing into the tight seal of hers, her eyes closing as she welcomed the moment in with no sense.

**Hope this was okay? Love to hear your thoughts :)**


	3. A Ploy?

**I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. :)**

**So sorry I took so long to update, first I couldn't remember my password. Then life just keeps throwing things my way to keep me busy.**

**I do hope you enjoy this, though. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Liz could hardly process what was happening. Regardless of that, a moan escaped her.

Reddington. Reddington in her house. Kissing her.

Breaking into her house, lavishing her with takeout and expensive red wine. Dancing with him in the middle of the night. And now, he was kissing her.

His lips closed over hers softly. Gently. Giving her every opportunity to change her mind and push him away had she felt she wanted to. And for a moment there, beyond any sense or rhyme or reason, she didn't. He took one of her hands in his, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her knuckles as his mouth moved, still gently, yet teasingly, at the same time.

Terrible to acknowledge it and compare as it was, this was not like how it was when Tom and her kissed. There was an unbelievably easy sensuality there, and evidently, Reddington was a mature man of experience; A man that knew all the ways to kiss a woman and knock her off her feet in the process. And it worked, for the briefest of seconds.

She heard Reddington groan low in his throat as he stopped kissing her, only to move his mouth near her ear instead.

"I want you, Lizzie." His voice sounded strange to her ears. The deep and low timbre of it took on an edge Liz hadn't heard from him before; One filled with desperation, urgency. She could hear him panting heavily and she found herself pleased that she wasn't the only one who was. "I've wanted you from the very first moment I saw you, with your... your Baltimore highlights."

An uncontrollable shiver rippled down Liz's spine at the rumble of his voice. He sounded like a man having spent days in a scorching hot desert, desperately yearning for water. And it was tempting. So very tempting and with a man like Reddington, she was finding it difficult to resist. Sucking in a deep breath, she waited until both her breathing and her heart calmed down, before she said what needed to be said.

"Get out of my house, Red."

It was a warning barely higher than a pathetic whisper. It took her a belated moment to realize he still had her hand clasped in his, while he stroked her knuckles with his thumb, over and over. She stopped his repetitive ministrations by tearing her hand free quickly. She licked her lips to get some moisture into them, clearing her throat loudly. She could still taste Reddington's lips on hers, feel his thumb on her knuckles.

"Lizzie." His voice was calm yet his desperate panting told her otherwise.

When he went to take hold of her hand again, she whipped it away out of his grip like he was a carrier of an infectious and deadly skin disease.

"God, don't touch me!" she hissed harshly as she slapped the easiest thing of him that she could find within arms reach, which so happened to be his chest. Somehow lashing out physically on him didn't give her the satisfaction she had needed, sadly. "Jesus. How stupid can I possibly get? This was your whole point all along, wasn't it?"

Her eyes were stinging with rage and she felt her nose twitch. She refused to glance at him. She stared at the wall directly across from her instead while all of that cheesy 80's music continued to play from the stereo system. Looking at the thinly painted plaster was easier than having to face looking at Reddington right now. Not after what he had only just done to her and what she had done in return.

What she had initially assumed about him, it was true. The man had no sense. No sense of anything. The man clearly had no sense of decency, no sense of propriety. He had come into her home unlawfully, and now, here he was, preying on her, a married woman. Then again, Raymond Reddington was a criminal. He had spent nearly most of his lifetime being deceitful and doing unlawful deeds. What was she expecting?

Her head whirled, her temples throbbed with flashes of heat. She was clenching her hands into fists so tight that she could begin to feel her nails digging into the palms of her flesh and sting. Her entire body was trembling, her teeth gnashing together. Really, what had she been thinking? She should have put a stop to this sooner, the instance she realized it was him, of all people, that had broken his way into her house. Some part of her knew it would have only led to this, to something wrong and bad transpiring. Instead, like some fool, she had indulged him in eating dinner with him and dancing.

What had she been thinking? Obviously, she hadn't been thinking at all.

"Get out, Reddington," she repeated again slowly, attempting to make her voice firmer. "I mean it. Get out of my house."

She heard no footsteps, no anything. She could simply hear Reddington breathing loudly from behind her where he stood, rooted to the spot.

She wasn't prepared for this to happen, and it frightened her, most of all. She hadn't been prepared for Reddington to do this, to confirm that he had wanted her, in this way. Terrifying of all, was that she had to admit to herself, right then and there, that she felt undeniably attracted to the man as well. Infuriating as he could be at times, there was simply something about Reddington; Something Liz couldn't quite put a name on.

But she was a married woman and he had no right in doing what he did. Just because he was a criminal, the same standards and principles applied.

She had allowed him to kiss her, for a moment there. She had simply let it happen, without sense. How stupid of her. How wrong. She hated herself for it, for enjoying it on some sick, deep level. She wasn't meant to enjoy it, just as she wasn't meant to enjoy the man having bombarded his way into her home and forcing her into sharing a meal with him. She felt physically ill inside, and sick with guilt; She had just cheated on Tom, if kissing even constituted as much. She had Tom and, despite Reddington's warnings that she should be careful and to take caution around him, she knew Tom was a good man. A good husband.

This was Reddington playing her all over again. She was being another pawn in his game, by going along with him tonight. And now, look where it had left her; She went against Tom, she had betrayed him.

Red had sent cryptic comments about her husband her way ever since the beginning, where he had surrendered himself into FBI custody. And now, here he was, sinking so low into the game by forcing his way into her own personal home and preying on her.

This wasn't about desiring her. This was just Red being plain sick and sadistic. She knew it.

"How dare you," she got out, very nearly yelling. "Was this part of your entire plan of coming over here? You planned this all along, didn't you? Breaking into my house, and now, trying to sway my feelings about Tom by forcing yourself onto me and getting me all confused? All the wine... and the music and the candles- you were playing me all along, trying to get me to..." Her voice faltered helplessly as she struggled to name exactly what it was he was doing.

She risked a sidelong glance back at him. He was staring at her, his jaw slack, eyes wet with moisture. As always, it was next to impossible for her to know what he was thinking.

"We're done," she spat out, meaning it with all her heart. "Really, this time, we're done. I want you out of my house right this instance, you son of a bitch!"

When he moved not a step, a wave of lethal anger swept across her, so intense, it was crippling. She felt a dangerous urge to hit something, smash something. Without thought and losing it, her eyes found the bottle of wine and the glasses on the table and she rushed over to them, knocking them off the table with her arm and finding deep relief when both the glasses and the wine smashed on the floor loudly at her feet. The shards of glass cut into her bare feet painfully as she stepped over the wet splotch of wine on the linoleum to get at Reddington, but she no longer cared, about anything.

Since Reddington was simply standing there, he was an easy target.

"You sick, twisted man... coming into my own house and trying to seduce me as a way of brainwashing me into not trusting my husband!"

Losing herself even more, Liz shocked herself when she slapped him across the cheek. She got the sense it hurt her more than it hurt him, the slap. Because the instance her palm connected with his cheek, she quickly came to regret it when Red's head snapped to the side. She watched with a heaving chest as he kept his eyes closed for an unnervingly long moment, his cheek growing pinker by the second. After a dreadfully long moment, Reddington reopened his eyes, meeting hers. His mouth parted and she waited for him to say something, some kind of explanation or apology. She thought he looked as if he was oddly enough going to cry- his chin was trembling, his eyes growing even wetter.

"Watch your bare feet on the glass, won't you?" he said in a soft, drained voice.

Then stunning her, he walked past her and left. She heard the door slam on the way out. Huffing under her breath, Liz winced at the sharp pain in her feet as she strode over to the stereo to switch the music off, her ears immediately beginning to ring as a depressing silence rang out through the house.


End file.
